Black Leather Roses
by ShonenAiSorcerer
Summary: Red roses are nice, but every once in a while, you just want something in leather. Yohji and Aya explore the possibilities of their relationship in the bed . . . and everywhere else. Yohji/Aya, kink, see warnings inside. CHAPTER SIX
1. One: Vinyl Daffodils

Disclaimer: If I owned Weiss, there would be naked boys for everyone! Alas, it's not so. I don't own any of the name brands mentioned here, either, or even the products. I make absolutely no money from these writings; it's all part of my charity work for the 2 Naked Bishounen Foundation which is dedicated to providing sex education to pretty boys around the world. Donate a yaoi fic today!

Notes: First, thank you to everyone who has been reviewing my fics. Cody-san, as always, thank you for your kind words and encouragement (especially on Out); you're the best fan ever!. Cierzo, it's so good to hear from you again! And blackorcid, I really appreciate your reviews, especially the sense of humor (I think we think along the same wavelength—scary, ne?) and I'm working on reading your wonderful fics to return the favor. And thanks to Joybug, Midnattssol and Kate the Night too, and to everyone else who took time to review; it really keeps me writing to see someone actually enjoys my stuff. And now, for you all, something san-angst which I hope you'll enjoy!

I went back to finish my old fic "That Kind of Fun" since so many kind people had reviewed it and I felt guilty for not wrapping up the last chapters, but I realize it's been forever ago and my style's very different, so, well, I'm having another go at a no-holds-barred yaoi multi-chapter PWP, only this time I want to push my own limits a bit (or a lot) and toss in, well, kinks.

Warnings: beware of fic

Chapter Warnings: yaoi, language, discussions of fetish, mature themes

* * *

Black Leather Roses

* * *

"It is only by enlarging the scope of one's tastes and one's fantasies, by

sacrificing everything to pleasure, that the unfortunately individual called

man, thrown despite himself into this sad world, can succeed in gathering a few roses…"

- Marquis de Sade

* * *

Chapter One: Vinyl Daffodils

* * *

"Stop it."

Aya hissed the warning, slapping Yohji's hand away from a potentially dangerous area of his anatomy.

"Hmm…why?" Yohji's voice was low, sultry as a midsummer night.

"You know why."

"Nooo," his hand drifted back to Aya's thigh, "Tell me."

"Omi's—"

"Yohji-kun! Aya-kun! What did I say!" Omi turned to look into the back seat of their rental car.

"Maybe we ought to put Yohji up front," Ken offered from behind the wheel. It was getting dark, and leaving the blonde playboy in the back seat with Aya was like leaving a vampire with, well, Aya. Ken prayed that it was only the redhead's neck that got sucked, then instantly regretting going there as the alternative left a rather vivid image imprinted on his already scared psyche.

Omi continued to lecture, "We're not having a repeat of the Nagoya incident!"

"Do you see any ice cream?"

Omi shuddered.

"Don't you dare," he warned. "Don't even touch Aya-kun."

He thought for a moment, eyes going wide.

"And don't talk Aya-kun into touching you either!"

Yohji went to protest, but Omi's version of the Aya-glare reduced him to sulking on his side of the car. Leveling the same at Aya himself, though, Omi found the redhead completely ignoring him and was left having no idea if Aya would follow his order or not.

In truth, Aya was embarrassed. Not that he would ever admit to it. He never intended to do anything with Yohji in public, but somehow they still ended up kissing in the flower shop and touching on the living room couch and screwing on the roof. Aya wanted to blame Yohji; the playboy's reputation gave him full leverage to do so, but he knew better. It wasn't that Yohji forced him to do any of those things; being anywhere near the blonde made him want to grab him and touch and do extremely naughty things that would get them in trouble with Omi.

He had very little self control where Yohji was concerned. It was the one area of his life that slipped out from under his demanding system of rigid order, but this too served its purpose. Being out of control with Yohji let him keep it together in everything else, so, after much reflection and personal angst, he had accepted it. Not that he was planning to put on another live nude show any time soon.

With Aya staring out the window and Yohji pretending to smoke an unlit cigarette, Omi thought the situation rectified and turned back around to fasten his seat belt. He sifted through a few CDs, their titles difficult to read in the fast-fading light of late evening. Finally, he selected something by Gackt and slid it in. Ken made a face, but no one said anything.

They rode in peace for a while.

Omi heard the soft click of a seatbelt being undone.

"Don't even think about it," he warned.

The seatbelt was refastened.

He heard them whispering, but it was mostly harmless complaining on Yohji's part, so he turned up the radio and forced a smile.

* * *

The backseat wasn't that big, so even with each of them buckled in, the space between them measured a meager foot. This decreased to eight inches as Yohji shifted in Aya's direction, laying back against the seat and turning his head to watch the other in the last vestiges of light.

"Ayan…"

"Hn?"

"I want you."

"Hmm."

"You're turning me on, sittin' over there in the dark."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yet."

A pause. He waited. Aya's eyes came to meet his own. Slipping free of his shoulder restraint, he shifted in the seat so that his right shoulder rested against the back and his right leg was curled in front of him with his hands loosely dropped into the well it made. One of his eartails fell longer than the other as he titled his head to rest it on the upholstery.

"You're doing it," Yohji commented.

"What?"

"Bein' sexy."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"No?"

"Uh-uhn. You're bad, Aya. I know."

A lifted eyebrow, a little half smile.

"You're very bad. Naughty. I might have to spank you."

The whisper of his voice fell over Aya like a blanket, nurturing a familiar heat.

"Can't touch me, Kudou."

"Ah, well, I can think about it though," he closed his eyes briefly, "Mmmm, yeah. I like having you bent over my lap with your pants around your knees, smacking your ass with my hand until its red as a ripe strawberry and you're crying out every time I swat you."

"Hm."

"Would you let me do that?"

A tiny sigh, not frustrated. Yohji thought he knew what it meant.

"Is that a yes? Would you let me spank you, Aya? _Will_ you?"

"Yes."

Yohji smiled, only slightly predatory.

"Or maybe you need a more…severe punishment."

An intense stare gave Yohji's Aya's full attention, and he slowly wound it around his soft, sensual words.

"Maybe I'll strip you down and tie you up. We need some handcuffs."

A mumbled phrase he missed.

"Huh?"

"I have some."

Aya hoped Yohji couldn't see the blush in his cheeks; it was already dark, so he thought his chances were good.

"What kind?"

"…?"

"Metal, leather, fur . . . ?"

"Leather."

"I love it. Fucking leather cuffs. I knew you were naughty."

Aya almost rolled his eyes but settled for a long blink.

"Tell me about them."

" . . . ?"

"What do they look like?"

A shrug, no more than the slight pull of one shoulder, "They're black, wide, with two buckles, here." He made a motion around his wrist.

"You're a leather boy. I wanna dress you up in leather pants, tight ones, so I see every curve. Low cut, show off your hips. Maybe a vest…no, mesh shirt, all black netting against your skin. You ought to get a nipple ring."

" Hn."

"It'd be damn sexy."

"I thought you said I was already sexy," the threat turned tease when his lip edged up, just a touch, in one corner.

"Oh," he stretched his long legs then settled them back into an easy sprawl, "you are. But I like the idea of seeing a silver ring flash through a mesh shirt, pushing it up to get my hands under there, pinching your nipples till they're hard, getting the ring between my teeth so I can – you gotta get one."

"I don't think so." He hoped Yohji wouldn't push it, because he might give in. He was already debating the belly ring the blonde had been obsessing over for weeks.

"Ah, well, I settle for the shirt then. I'll take you out so we can dance together, give you a couple shots of Jager and press up against you while the music pulses through us. Everyone would watch my hands running over your body, all over your body; I'll be wondering how far you'll let me get and _pushing it_ a little farther. I might kiss you."

"Now?"

Yohji laughed without sound, "I'll fuck you right now."

"You would."

"Yes."

They silently contemplated each other, both thinking. Aya was trying to convince himself it was ridiculous and that he could wait; Yohji was wondering what Aya could bite on to keep him quiet.

"You're loud," the blonde said finally, bringing his unlit cigarette back to his lips only to look down at the rough texture. He had nearly chewed the end of it off. He slipped it between his lips anyway. When the responding comment didn't come, he looked back to Aya, trying to discern where their dialog had fallen off. "Huh?"

"What?"

"No comeback? I just told you you're loud in bed."

Another shrug, "I am."

"Yeah," his voice slipped back into that slow, rhythmic cadence , "You're bad that way, screaming my name so fucking loud . . . I love when you do that, grab hold of me and just let it go. Damn," he broke off suddenly as the filter finally broke free of his cigarette, letting it fall to his chest. With some shuffling, his discarded it and drew a new one from the pack.

"Where was I?"

"Somewhere between stroking your ego and stroking your dick."

"Exactly where I like to be. Though I think I was gonna tie you up."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I think I'll strip you down and tie you to my bed, use those leather cuffs to keep your arms over your head—no, sitting up the first time, with your back against the headboard and your hands behind your back."

"Maybe I won't let you."

"I'll rub your dick until you're half crazy, then you'll let me. I'll have you sitting on my bed, hands behind you in fucking leather handcuffs, legs spread open so I can see how hard you are for me."

Their eyes were locked, sharing something between a vision and a promise.

"Maybe I'll wear vinyl," Yohji released a short, one-syllable laugh, "I could be a dominatrix."

Yohji watched Aya closely, trying to gage reactions, silently storing up possibilities. They hadn't been together much more than a month, and they hadn't shared a bed immediately. Their short courtship meant they hadn't done too much exploration of play, but Yohji had more than sneaking suspicion that Aya got off on BDSM. He didn't have too much experience there, but Yohji Kudou was a fast learner, especially when it came to sex.

"What would we need? Besides the cuffs, I mean."

"Hn." That was noncommittal. Yohji felt the reluctance to admit too much, too give up valuable information under the guise of play in fear of later ramifications.

Yohji would give to get, "I think want a paddle. I've never used one, but I like the idea. If I got one, would you let me use it on you?"

"Aa."

His smile widened, masking the bit of vulnerability, "Would you use it on me?"

"Yes."

"Would you pretend I'm the rebellious school boy, trying to seduce the handsome, young teacher? I'd have to explain to Fujimiya-sensei how I couldn't resist him, all smart in those glasses; how I couldn't concentrate on my paper because I wanted, I _needed_ to see what was under his shirt and tie. Always so proper, I wonder, could you teach me a lesson? Would you spank me and then do it right there on your desk?"

"If you like."

"I like _you_ so fucking much."

"Hn."

"So, who do you want to be? You know, if we're gonna play."

He let the question hang for a moment, watching Aya draw his bottom lip in between his white teeth. Yohji knew he had an answer, maybe even a detailed scenario. The redhead could be extremely creative when he wanted to, and Yohji had not been exaggerating when he had called him naughty. If Yohji could gain his trust in this, prove that he wasn't going to laugh or say no or look down on whatever hidden fetishes Aya loved or liked or, hell, just wanted to try out, there could be so many opportunities.

"You don't have to tell me, but I'd like to know. I told you mine, even though it's kind of stupid—"

"It's not," he licked his lips to wet them. "It's not stupid, Yohji."

"Thanks."

He reached out his hand, just resting it on the seat between them. Aya hesitated a second, then placed his own on top of it. They just enjoyed it for a moment. Then, Aya began to trace Yohji's fingers with the tip of his index finger, moving along each one with attentive caresses before absently stroking the back of the hand as he spoke.

"I have one, but," his eyes diverted for the first time, watching his own slow movement, "it's weird."

"Oh yeah?"

He nodded, chewing his lip again.

"I've done some weird shit, Aya. I doubt you can top it. And if you do, then that's fucking fantastic. I'll do it, if you tell me."

"Don't laugh." The eyes were back on his, challenging, daring, begging.

"I won't. What do you want to be?"

He brought two fingers of his free hand to his lip, touching it tentatively them holding them in front of his face; Yohji wondered if he's finally managed to make his lip bleed with his nervous habit. He wanted to kiss it and find out, but Aya dropped his hand and took a breath to speak.

"I want to be…a…a pet."

He held Yohji's stare in the dark, but not without effort. He felt the heat spread across his nose and the top of his cheeks. He started to withdraw his hand from Yohji's, but the blonde wasn't having it, making a quick grab to interlace their fingers.

"Pet," he repeated the word, trying it on his tongue and attending Aya's hand for reaction. "Like with a collar and leash and sh—things?"

"Aa."

He nodded, then gave Aya a bright smile, "I like it. You'll have to teach me—"

"Teach Tokyo's best playboy?" There was relief in the gentle teasing, an unwinding of muscles in his arms and back.

"I'm secretly a virgin," he asserted.

"Of course."

"But I'm thinking of giving it up to my boyfriend. He's a florist and just super dreamy," he parodied.

Yohji wanted to press Aya for details on playing as a pet, but the man had gone nervy at the topic, so a furtive conversation in the back seat probably wasn't the opportunity he needed. He thought about Aya in a collar, naked at his feet, following him on a leash, being petted.

"We really need to go shopping."

"Aa."

"There's a place in Kabikicho. Maybe we can go tomorrow."

"Okay."

Aya had expectations that it would be an absolutely mortifying experience, but acting out fantasies with Yohji would be more than adequate compensation. Images of the older man dressed in a school boy's uniform kept flitting through his mind, competing in large part with an idealized tableau of Yohji disciplining his new pet.

"We need lube anyhow. And an extra one to keep in the greenhouse."

It was quiet again. Omi's soft snores filtered back, nearly obscured by the radio.

"Aya?"

"Hn?"

"You hard?"

"Aa."

"Me too."

A few more seconds of quiet contemplation. Yohji failed to notice the click of the CD player as it ejected the silver disk, switching back to the quiet strains of classical that Aya had requested earlier.

"Think Ken would notice if we jacked each other off?"

"Yes!" Ken snapped suddenly from the front seat, "Ken would definitely notice!"

Undaunted, Yohji leaned forward between the seats, "Want to watch?"

"No!"

"Then I need a fucking smoke break."

~tbc?~

Notes: Okay, the plan is two or three opening chapters, then a progression of chapters based on particular fetishes the boys explore and have various reactions to. Now, if you'd like to see something particular, please let me know! And if not, review anyway, I implore you in the name of the Evil Hentai Slug!


	2. Two: PVC Pansies

I don't own any boys of Weiss, movies mentioned here, or brands of sex toys…please don't sue the Miko, she has no moneys . . .

* * *

Notes, or, the Author Blushes (based on a true story):

Miko: *hunched over her fic notebook outlining story as the Evil Hentai Slug nods along gleefully*

Subaru-san (aka, the plot muse): *enters office and notices the new and questionable contents of the Miko's desk—papers, pens, a few glossy magazines in suspicious plastic covers, detailed diagrams, three Super BBC manga with dubious translations in the margins, one anatomical model (posed suggestively and wearing a pink sticky note labeling it 'Yotan'), something squishy, a leather crop, and a large basket of lemons*

Miko: *writes a line, pauses, blinks*

Subaru-san: Oh my god . . . are you, are you blushing?

Miko: Ano…that is…

Subaru-san: That hasn't happened since the days of het lemon! What the hell is in this fic? *looks over her shoulder, blanches, passes out*

Evil Hentai Slug: *scoops Subaru-san off the floor and tosses him into the oddly convenient chute labeled 'seme food'*

Miko: Hey, wait! I needed that! There has to be some plot here, it can't just be a random collection of senseless porn… can it?

* * *

Chapter Warnings: toys, blatant suggestion of fetish, solo, imagined sexual situations which are yaoi

* * *

Black Leather Roses

Chapter Two: PVC Pansies

* * *

Yohji had been useless all afternoon. Though he showed up on time for his shift, he'd overwatered the begonias, broken two pots, and created at least five unsellable arrangements. He was becoming Ken.

It wasn't really his fault, though, Yohji rationalized, if only to himself. He couldn't work with Aya right there, not when the younger man had agreed to a shopping spree at Yohji's favorite toy store. It hadn't taken Yohji long to discover Aya was far from a prude, but accessing the redhead's hidden passions had taken, and would take, patient exercises in earning trust.

The trip to Kabikicho was a huge victory, and Yohji couldn't help imagining the fun they would have. It made him eager. So he spent all afternoon half hard, distracted, and watching the clock. Now, from his position of exile behind the register, he counted down the last half hour.

Aya appeared unaffected as he delicately plucked and prodded a large arrangement into an aesthetic showpiece of zephyr flowers* and red columbines**. Not once did Yohji see him examine the clock, and his earlier attempt at a conspiratorial reminder had fallen flat at Aya's cold stare. Yohji prided himself on being able to read the other man, but, unfortunately, the blank inattention had two distinctly different possibilities. First, Aya might be excited and using the front to cover anticipation of their outing. Second, though, he might be nervous; officially, the redhead did not do nervous, not in the face of dark beasts nor standing naked in front of Yohji Kudou. This reputation came from his impressive ability to shield with frigidity.

Yohji had learned, much to his delight, that Aya's nervousness expressed itself in other ways and was, upon coaxing, apt to turn to simple embarrassment which was likely to make Aya blush. The man fought valiantly against these blushes, but he was so pale that the least rise of blood to his cheeks was painfully obvious. It was also freaking adorable: Aya half-hiding under his long bangs, cheeks flaring bright red as Yohji sucked his cock.

Yohji bit back a moan and readjusted himself on the stool.

Twenty minutes to six.

He hoped he would have time to jerk off before they went; he wasn't going to make it through this otherwise, at least not without a change of pants.

What would Aya buy? Or, what would he buy for Aya? Yohji rather favored the idea of making the purchases for their playtime. Aya might insist. Though by no means wasteful, Yohji found him much freer with money now. Aya-chan was, of course, the means of this transformation, awake and breaking teenage hearts in Paris. Once he had gotten a peek at the ridiculously large trust fund Aya had collected for her, Yohji instantly realized where the man's money had gone, not just to bills, but to Aya-chan's future, just in case. Then, though, it hadn't been just-in-case for Aya; it had been when.

Sometimes Yohji physically ached with the guilt of untaken opportunities of kindness. They had all spent so much time in the dark concerning Aya, writing him off as hard and cold and forgetting to give a damn except when he was watching their own backs. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But Yohji knew that he had walked by Aya's door more than once when he knew the man was in there hurting.

Aya had been hard to love then, hell, hard to like or even stay in the same room with. He still was, for most people. To all appearances, he was antisocial to the point of forgoing almost all common courtesies, did not hesitate to cut anyone down with cruel words, and was always ready to wound before wounded. But, to Yohji, he was a kitten disguised as a porcupine.

Really, there had been no sudden transformation from Aya back to Ran, no sudden breaking of the emotional dam to reveal the laughing, careless boy. Late one night, just before they became lovers, Aya had confessed to Yohji why he had never retaken his old name. Ran, he said, was dead, buried in the empty grave next to his mother and father. He had been a sacrifice, used, Aya told him in that soft, drunken voice, a sacrifice to summon Abyssinian. Ran was a boy Aya-chan talked of, an old acquaintance that Aya occasionally mourned, a kind person Yohji never got a chance to meet.

But that was okay. Ran would not have had Yohji. And Aya wasn't Abyssinian; yes, he could be, and often was, rough and bitchy and even cruel, but he was also pretty damn funny when he let his sarcastic comments slip outside his head. He could be sweet on occasion, like when he learned to cook 'that disgusting thing' called meatloaf because Yohji liked it.

Aya had been through hell, and he appreciated small details because of it. It had also given him a wicked sense of reckless adventure, though he tried to suppress it. He had to. Yohji understood. Once you ran head first into death twenty or thirty times, strange acts could suddenly seem thrilling; Yohji had once seriously debated jumping off the roof to see if he could stick the landing from three stories up. He hadn't jumped, but the thoughts scared the hell out of him. You had to occupy that part; he had done it before with booze and drugs and women, and now he did it with Aya.

And Aya did it with him.

Sex was an occupation and an expression of their, what? Caring, he thought was the word he wanted. There was another one, but it was born of long friendship and had yet to fully merge with what they did in bed. It would, Yohji thought, in time, fermenting their relationship into some state very close to perfection as long as—

"Kudou!"

Aya was strikingly close, suddenly touching Yohji's arm and making the blonde jump. He tried to laugh it off.

"Don't look so serious," Aya chided, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms, "I'm not backing out on you."

* * *

"Kudou, wait."

Yohji paused but failed to release the hold he had on Aya's wrist.

"It's early."

"So?"

"We're not dressed."

"I seem to be wearing pants," he returned, preparing to tug Aya long, but the other resisted.

"Kudou. We can't go to Kabikicho like this."

Yohji sighed and wondered what the world was coming to when Aya was criticizing his fashion. Still, they might not get arrested for decency, but they would stick out like sore thumbs if they appeared in the red light district in loose jeans and matching aprons. Point taken, Yohji released Aya and resolved to wait a little longer, pacifying himself with a shower and change of clothes in the mean time.

* * *

He jerked off in the shower to the image of Aya in nipple clamps and a silver thong, coming hard as he dropped back against the wall and fought to keep his feet. That should have been enough to keep him grounded for the first few hours of their trip, but with Aya's wardrobe change, he wasn't sure he was going to get out the door.

Yohji thought the outfit was a gift for him, but with Aya you never knew for sure. To mention it would mean its retraction, and perhaps it wasn't about him at all. The man was, as Yohji had noted before in jest, quite fond of straps and buckles. This was considerably more subdued than his mission wear, but it immediately stirred Yohji's dick.

His jeans were black and fitted, secured just at the top of his hipbones with a wide, studded belt of black leather. It wasn't much of a surprise that the top was black, too, it being Aya's color of choice, but the fact that the fitted tee clung, just a little, to his thin frame as he moved was sexy without being blatant. And, small details that Yohji adored, spoke of at least momentary thought: the cuff on his right wrist which matched the belt, the silver hoop in his ear that matched the silver cross on his necklace. There wasn't any religious meaning in the last; it was, as Yohji liked to say, just part of Aya channeling his inner goth.

Aya always went for the dark look, and, judging by the outfits like this that just happen to come from his closet, Yohji had a theory that his actual tastes ran along much more along the lines of punk and goth casual wear than orange sweaters and old tennis shoes, the latter being byproducts of period of genuine inattention to dressing. It made sense, really.

And Yohji liked it.

"You look nice," he smiled.

Aya reflexively glared as he evaluated the tone; his expression relaxed into a bland stare when he decided he wasn't being teased.

Yohji shook his head at his boyfriend's insecurity. Only Aya could make him want to comfort him and fuck him in the same breath. He settled for the middle ground. Gently pushing Aya against the wall, Yohji slipped his hand up to rest on his soft cheek and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips touched once, lightly, then Yohji tilted his slightly, bringing them together again and pressing his tongue past the redhead's unresisting lips as he shoved his hips against Aya's. The kiss was long and deep, tongues sliding against one another as Yohji's free hand rubbed Aya's flank and the redhead's arms fell languidly around the taller man's neck.

It was with a slow reluctance that Yohji withdrew, wiping Aya's chin with his thumb to clear away the wetness there; he wiped it on his own jeans as he stepped away and tried to remember where they were going.

* * *

This was the red light district at its finest, all neon signs and sexy bodies. The streets were busy, but not packed, at a little after ten, and most of the people they passed were young and hip, vibrant in their licentious fun. The flashing advertisements for independent theater productions and live nude girls made them all the more surreal, glinting off heavy jewelry, splashing over toned bodies, and highlighting the high sweep of the occasional Mohawk. They laughed at the small alfresco tables in front of tiny restaurants and handed over IDs at the doors of clubs and bars where they would drink for several hours perhaps before moving on to more questionable entertainment on the side streets.

The vibe of the place thrummed through Yohji, welcoming him to a thousand exciting experiences. The lights reflected off his shades, worn even in the dark of evening, and made his loose hair shine with unnatural colors. He was completely at home in his dark gray vest that laced over his tight jeans, stone washed and so low that any inauspicious shift might vindicate him as a natural blonde.

He guided them down the sidewalk at the easy pace of a Sunday stroll, Aya following beside him. Yohji had expected him to be tense, maybe even stiff with Abyssinian's instinctual apprehension of unfamiliar locations. But Aya wasn't examining the street for potential threats, nor was he glaring at the noisy passersby that continually cast approving looks in his direction. He was ignoring them, mostly, occasionally glancing at a particularly interesting sign or shop window or glaring at an exceptionally vocal admirer that thought to comment on his hair only to return his attention quickly to the path in front of him. Yohji wouldn't say he was relaxed, but he wasn't frustrated or scared or distant either.

Yohji almost loved him for it.

Reaching with casual, languid ease, he took Aya's hand in his, entwining their fingers. Aya looked at the hands, then to Yohji.

"Can we do this here?" he asked quietly, not quite meeting the other's eyes.

Yohji wasn't sure if he wanted to smile or cry; it was such a stupid concern, yet so fucking relevant. He felt it too, that nervousness in the back of his head about what people would think, would do if they saw two guys holding hands in public. He supposed it wasn't prudent to remind Aya that they could kick the ass of anyone who said anything. Honestly, in that instant, Yohji had the irrational idea that he'd like to give society the finger.

Instead, he said, "I don't think anyone will say anything."

Aya nodded and didn't attempt to pull away. Still, a distant expression had ghosted over the vague interest he had shown before.

Yohji gave in, "Plus, if they do, we'll go all 'shi-ne' on their sorry asses."

A smirk at that, and a little squeeze of his hand. Yohji smiled and suggested they get a drink before shopping.

* * *

A few shots of expensive whiskey left Aya with a warm glow; he couldn't decide if the feeling was in his stomach or his head, but for once he liked the relaxed way it tugged at his muscles. Rarely did he drink without the intention of blocking out the world, and walking out into it with a pleasurable fuzz hanging about him made him reconsider the usefulness of alcohol in general.

He wasn't drunk, not by far, but when a blush didn't so much as threaten at the sight of a rather detailed advertisement for 'The Singing Penis Boys,' he realized that what the liquor had washed away were a few of the major ramparts of his sense of social and personal propriety. He debated, momentarily, if he lamented the loss, but Yohji's palm was comfortable against his own and the blonde was wearing a smile that touched something pleasantly deep within him. Summoning the curiosity and adventurousness that naturally lurked somewhere beneath duty and organization and insecurity, Aya brought it forth to meet Yohji's smile, letting the rest slip away into the night.

* * *

Only a small, unlit sign marked the stairs, a single, red arrow directing potential customers into a rather dim, concrete passage below street level. Yohji never hesitated, and Aya, obviously as unconcerned of thugs or robbers or other bad things that reportedly lurked in such shadowy walkways, remained right behind him as they approached the door. It was nondescript, with its brass knob and peeling paint, indicated only by a single Kanji: _iku_. ***

Offering Aya a little smile, Yohji turned the knob and let them in.

"Irasshaimase!"

It struck Yohji as both strange and comforting to hear the familiar greeting offered by a young girl wearing a black shop apron that proclaimed 'Sex Sells' and holding one of the twelve-inch dildos she was restocking. Her dark hair was chopped rather short, accenting her high cheekbones and large eyes that might have dominated her look if not for the shimmer of baby blue lipstick across her mouth.

"Welcome to Iku; feel free to look around by yourselves, but if you need any help don't hesitate to ask!"

Having said her piece, she went immediately back to the task, quite literally, at hand. That was what Yohji loved about this place; the staff was friendly, helpful, and damn well educated in their merchandise, but they didn't linger over your shoulder to offer advice or push the latest porn flick. And they were young. He was prejudiced maybe, but buying sex toys from women the age of his mother really put a damper on things. Now, the girl with the blue lipstick, that was a face he could deal with while he handed money over a pile of toys, a considerable pile if he had his way about it.

And Iku had more than a few to offer. It was larger than it looked from the outside, and though it glowed with almost harsh florescent lighting that flooded out all potentially dark corners, high shelves and strategically arranged displays (and, Yohji surmised, an expensive system of security cameras) provided a great deal more of the feeling of privacy than the warehouse-like, carefully-watched rooms that populated most backstreets. It was also considerably cleaner, but lacked the enforced sterile quality he found in many of the upscale shops; more than once he had wondered who had chosen the erotic artwork that hung in wide, black frames throughout the store. Many were prints, he knew, but a few looked like originals; he found almost all of them incredibly hot.

And speaking of incredibly hot, Yohji gave a brief nod to the girl, and turned for Aya who, for all his appearance of confidence moments before, was examining his boots like they were the next Rosetta stone.

This was puzzling, not entirely unexpected, but weird. It was part of a larger mystery which, while he enjoyed it, Yohji would just soon have solved and been done with. But for all his attempts at meaningful approaches to the subject, he had gained little to no information on the extent of Aya's sex life pre-Yohji. He hadn't come to Yohji's bed a virgin; he knew that tab A went to slot B and was smart enough to demand Yohji wear a condom until they got the tests back. Then there were the blowjobs; talent like that wasn't the result of natural predisposition or a man's genes, no matter what the recipient boyfriends of such men would like to believe. The cuffs he had admitted to indicated exploration of at least some basic kink, and, with Aya's ever practical nature, Yohji had no doubts that they had been bought when, and only when, they were to be immediately put to use.

But all of this was countered by subtle hints that Aya was not, despite his waffling efforts to convince Yohji otherwise, that familiar with fucking. While not a virgin, during their first time he had been tight and blushing and almost surprised when it was so good. He had clung to Yohji's neck and thanked him afterwards; Yohji had had to ask him to stay. And the next morning, and every time after it, he had fought hard to hide his embarrassment at being naked in front of the blonde, covering well with frigid antagonism, caustic comments trying to overshadow the spread of pink on his cheeks, his lip repeatedly suffering the tug of sharp teeth.

Yohji couldn't figure it out, and he was an expert on this kind of thing.

Aya needed a manual, a big one, with a huge chapter labeled "Physical Relations" which could explain things in simple, technical language: when approaching your new Aya 2.0, do so with caution as sudden moves may startle him, voiding the warranty. The parent company will not be held responsible for any bodily harm that results from improper sexual advances.

For the moment, trial and error would have to suffice.

"What's first, kitten?" His inquiry brought Aya's head up, probably because it was heavily laden with a pet name that had blossomed in Yohji's mind after their car talk but had only just then escaped into the open air between them. Aya's brows creased at it, but he didn't comment beyond a little shrug, content to let Yohji lead the self-assigned mission.

"Okay," the blonde debated, casting an appraising eye over the shop. Deciding to start on some very familiar grounds, he started off towards the pornography.

Near the front of the store, yet cut off by three high shelves and almost a room to itself, was Iku's large selection, appropriately sorted by media type, parties involved, and, much to Yohji's glee, fetish. He deposited himself in front of the first shelf, scanning titles for idea that he had perhaps missed on his brief but enlightening stint on Omi's laptop.

Some of the DVDs looked promising, though rather expensive. Yohji found himself suddenly less willing to shell out 4500 yen for Busty Blondes Blow IV when he had Aya at home. He spent longer considering a few of the gay titles, wondering if Aya would like them. Instantly out were the cheesy, low-budget fuck-em films that were good only when watched with one hand on the fast forward button, but Yohji wasn't sure the softcore girl-friendly versions that never got beyond heavy petting would do either of them much good.

Would Aya go for tranny sex? The moment didn't seem right to ask. One couldn't just blurt out these things.

A cursory glance at the redhead found him idly scanning the titles of erotic literature, occasionally pulling one from the shelf to glance at the back. It wasn't too surprising, Yohji figured, since Aya was more apt to read than watch television, that his erotica of choice would be textual. In Yohji's humble opinion, having to imagine sex scenes was just too much damn work.

Shifting his attention to the other shelf, Yohji examined the 'specialty' titles. A good deal of these were centered around physical characteristics of their stars, while others were based on acts and equipment. Some were interesting possibilities, while some struck Yohji as initially unappealing; however, most of the latter he shifted into the 'if Aya wants to try it' category. Still, he tried not to look at the cover image of a scrawny man in a suit getting sat on by his morbidly obese lover; that was the kind of thing that would keep a guy up at night. To each his own was a motto he lived by, but it didn't seem quite fair to the woman.

Never mind, he told his brain forcefully, asking if it happened to remember that he was here with a hot redhead that might actually watch a video with him, preferably while being jacked off or returning the favor? It began to pay attention immediately, simultaneously sending a memo to his dick and zeroing in on the bondage videos. Pulling two that seemed to be on the attractive, more-sex-than-pain side of the spectrum, he turned to lift them in Aya's direction.

"Which one?"

He received only a half-hearted shrug before Aya's gazed dropped back to the book his was holding. Yohji might have been disappointed, but Aya showing interest in anything in Iku was right up there on his things to see before he died list. Dropping one of the the DVDs back to the shelf, he quietly circled the other man to peek over his shoulder. Aya's eyes flicked towards him and he felt the shoulder under his chin tense, but the swordsman was resisting, barely, snapping the book closed and, perhaps, smacking Yohji over the head with it.

It was a yaoi manga, one of the rather detailed ones that the Yohji's extensive fangirl-reference-index told him was a Super BBC—quite graphic. It was something he would never have expected Aya to go for, but looking at the picture of the tall, thin pretty boy with his dress shirt falling down over his shoulders and his hardon sticking out from under its edge to be held by his boyfriend who is, at that moment, trying to distract him as he pressed two, wet fingers into the pretty boy's hole—it wasn't bad. And there was, Yohji admitted, a good deal of similarity between the slender bodies of the manga and Aya's own, a similitude that a number of live-action porn stars lacked. It was, he thought and not for the first time, a pity that muscle-bound jocks and balding wannabes dominated the gay porn industry.

The result of this insight was verbally produced as, "We should make a sex tape."

The book snapped closed and was instantly back on the shelf. Aya, brows a little drawn, wandered off in his own direction. Apparently sex and its accessories were fine in isolation but when mixed with Aya personally elicited a negative reaction: simple translation, when Aya thought he might be made fun of, he left and his boyfriend did not get to have fun. Okay. Yohji was ready to follow, chastised and obedient, but not before he snagged the manga and handed it, along with his DVD, discretely to the clerk.

After a momentary detour through the costume section and the subsequent Yohji-to-clerk handoff of several items, he located Aya studying a small shelf of lubricants. He had in hand their usual red tube of Anal-Eze, but was tilting his head at the shelf as he tried to read the English writing across what looked, to Yohji, like a small tub of butter. Scooching close so they touched shoulder to shoulder, Yohji joined Aya in translating the words printed just above a familiar-looking butter churn, rendering it roughly as "You'll never know it isn't Boy Butter."

Yohji wanted it, just for the novelty.

"Stupid," Aya decided, thankfully before Yohji announced his appreciation of the pun. The redhead handed over the Anal-Eze like it was the next day's flower orders.

"Ah. But we still need one for the greenhouse. Something different, maybe?"

"As long as it's not Boy Butter."

"It's sexy when you say it."

"Hn."

Yohji winced mentally at the cold, uninflected 'hn,' a noncommittal response that spared its user actual replies. Drastic action was required to reel Aya back into the experience before he could detach completely. Betting on the liquor and good graces of the goddess of getting fucked, Yohji made a risky move by putting the other on the spot.

"You pick, then, 'cause I'm getting that one if you let me choose."

A raised eyebrow, but Yohji thought it verged on playful. When Yohji made fun of himself, it seemed, Aya knew that he didn't have time (or brains, perhaps) to simultaneously pick on him. This further supported the theory that it was that vague possibility that Yohji would laugh at him, pick fun in a painful way that would actually hurt, that kept him at arm's length much of the time. As much as Yohji wished he could succeed at dispelling this fear, he prayed just as hard that he wouldn't inadvertently realize it.

Now, though, there was success. Stepping to the shelf, Aya paused, then, not without a tiny turn of one lip, handed Yohji a cylindrical bottle with a rounded top that was strikingly…red. Biting his tongue to keep from laughing out loud, Yohji read the label, instantly understanding why Aya could smile at that one; it was too funny to be embarrassing: "Fruity Booty: For a Sweet Ass."

All he said was, "Strawberry?"

"Aa."

And while most people would have placed this monosyllable close to the 'hn' that had rattled him moments before, it was miles away according to Yohji's sensitive Aya-sensor. The brush, light and almost accidental, of Aya's knuckles against his own sent Yohji into a delightful world of imaginings that began with his knuckles buried in Aya's body and ended with embittered strawberry cream on his tongue.

He almost dropped the lube when Aya bumped his shoulder; apparently he had been staring a little hard. Or staring a little, hard. Either way, the Fruity Booty was coming home with them.

And, thinking it a nice introduction to the experimental side of his lover, Yohji took the plunge and wandered out of familiar territory. An array of butt plugs caught his attention, arresting him to stillness with a particularly vivid image: Aya bent over the edge of their bed, wearing nothing but socks, legs spread and hands gripping the sheets as Yohji pressed a large, purple plug against the pink skin of his entrance, stroking his cock as he pushed the lubricated plastic in, slowly, watching it disappear into his lover's body.

This time his own shiver brought him back to the land of the living, and he offered Aya, now at his side, a smile that was rather on the guilty side. The other didn't really notice; he was looking at the wall and its plastic-packed wares.

"Want one?"

Yohji was surprised that it had been Aya who asked.

"Sure. Why the hell not."

It struck him directly after this statement that the satisfied gleam in Aya's eyes might indicate an intention to introduce Yohji to the plugs in an intimate fashion he hadn't counted on. Did he want one like that? Well, sure, why the hell not.

"You pick for me," he said decisively, not quite able to maintain playboy nonchalance when he added, "just not too big."

A nod, then Aya stepped towards the wall. He hesitated only an instant before selecting a slender, clear plug that didn't look too scary.

"Okay?" he questioned, serious, as he held it up for his lover's approval.

"Yeah. I can do that. Can I pick for you, then?"

Tucking the package under his arm like a library book, Aya nodded, less concerned apparently.

"Any special requests?" he offered.

"Not pink."

He laughed, pleased at Aya's new ease though he was quite sure it was born from his own embarrassment. Still, that might not be a bad thing. Perhaps they were on equal footing here, not experienced slut and innocent swordsman or vice versa. Yohji could live with that, though he would have to prove his own stunning adaptability in bed.

As for the choice of the toy; that was easy. It was purple, a little bigger than the one Aya had chosen for him, but nothing monstrous. A quick check with the redhead, another nod, and they moved along in a kind of surreal scavenger hunt for possibilities of pleasure, verging further from the known with each turn. It was exciting.

Now the dildos. Aya gave him a questioning look that he thought translated somewhere along the lines of 'Don't we have enough dicks to go around?'

Yohji smiled.

He wanted to put one of those inside Aya; he wanted to take Aya back out into the dark walkway, turn him into the concrete wall and yank his tight pants to his ankles, shielding him with his own warm body as he thrust the dildo into his hole; with such complete control, Yohji knew he could strike Aya's spot every time, making him come right there on the wall as he begged Yohji to give him the real thing.

Hm, whatever they got would have to be smaller than his real one; he didn't want to be jealous.

But Aya was looking at something a little bigger. He didn't take it from its hook on the wall, just tilted the corner of the package to read the description. Ten inches long, one and a half around, the color of pale flesh still three shades darker than Aya's ivory. Yohji was packing some serious heat, but even he wouldn't match up to that guy.

"Don't worry," Aya said, dropping the package and turning to face him, "It's not a threat to you."

It was a reference, but damn if Yohji could grasp it when there was a smile fluttering around Aya's lips. His instinct told him to close his eyes so he could think, but he didn't dare miss a second of such a rare event. Though, hopefully, not so rare anymore. The answer came to him anyway.

"Since when are you in Fight Club?" he pulled off with an ease he didn't feel. He wanted to kiss Aya's smile, to hold the feel of it forever in his memory.

"Yohji," the smile slipped into a serious expression, but lit in Aya's eyes as he delivered in surprisingly adept English, "The first rule of fight club is that you don't talk about fight club."

And then he walked on, leaving Yohji slightly stunned, slightly aroused, and still slightly intimidated by the dildo.

~tbc~

* zephyr flowers: anticipation

** red columbines: anxious and trembling

*** _Iku_ is technically a Japanese verb meaning "to go," but while in Japan, I learned the important fact that in informal speech, it also a popular equivalent of "to come" in English, and used frequently to indicate ejaculation. Ah, such an education trip, ne?

Notes: Review and I'll give you a prize…no, really. Let's see, though the story will continue regardless, if I get five whole reviews, I'll give you an embarrassed Aya next chapter instead of these end notes! Come on, hit the button, make Aya blush.


	3. Three: Fabergé Grass

Notes: Well, neither this nor the last chapter contain the hentai plot bunnies that made the Miko blush, but I think you'll notice we're inching closer to some real fun. Also, I'm relieved the shopping trip found a favorable response; I worried it was too long (and actually cut out some), and I felt I was lingering on it for the self-indulgent enjoyment of the idea of Aya and Yohji picking things out. Since you guys thought it was okay (Thank you so much for the reviews, by the way! I really am listening!), I left in the beginning of this chapter, you know, to build up to the *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

Chapter warnings: toys, blatant suggestion of fetish, teeny-tiny squick possibility, imagined yaoi situations, real live oral sex

* * *

Black Leather Roses

Chapter Three: Faberge Grass

* * *

It was sparkly and pink, and Yohji wanted it. Intricate scenarios of secretly tormenting Aya in the most public of places were weaving themselves through his brain, twisting and curling around one another, creating webs where his hentai thought-spiders could rest between their bouts of creative exertions. Fun little beasts, but distracting, and demanding. They clamored for the sparkly thing.

With a furtive glance at his lover, Yohji picked up the wireless vibrator and added it to his growing stash.

He then attempted to coax Aya into showing appreciation for a pair of edible underwear.

"They're strawberry."

"They're unsanitary . . . and sticky."

The younger man sounded vaguely grossed out by the latter idea, though he would probably express the sentiment more elegantly. Yohji didn't share this revulsion, but if Aya thought something was disgusting, then it was a something the blonde didn't want it anywhere near his cock. No, thank you. He would stick with whipped cream, a proven crowd pleaser.

Trying to shove away the image of Aya licking whip cream off of his chest while he sat naked on the kitchen table, Yohji indicated a set of satin scarves. The younger man shook his head no, and offered no comment when Yohji pointed to a soft blindfold. According to Yohji theory, though, the slight color in his cheeks hinted they were once again creeping towards something personal. Not daunted, the blonde pressed on, watching Aya's reactions carefully; it was when he lifted a thin, leather crop that the gentle nods of rejection became a familiar application of teeth to bottom lip. Yohji was unable to resist taking a practice swat at a convenient mirrored column; the crop snapped loudly against the glass surface, and he couldn't miss the slight jerk of Aya's body.

"We'll get this," he decided, dragging his long fingers down its braided edge.

Aya swallowed hard, then nodded: yes. Yohji resisted a victory whack, but he was sorely tempted to tap the leather tool against Aya's bottom. Still caught up in the speculation of what kinds of sounds Aya would make when caressed with the crop, Yohji found himself almost embarrassed by the soft, choked sound that rose from his own throat when he looked up to see the man holding a paddle experimentally. He covered with a cough.

A violet gaze caught his own, curiosity melting into heat, then back to hidden cool as he sat down the small, round paddle and motioned Yohji over. He might have wondered over the sudden revitalization of the commanding presence; he might have, if Aya hadn't just been holding that and looking like a fucking wet dream.

"You pick," Aya directed, tipping his head to indicate the small selection of said items.

It was easy. He'd spent more than enough time fantasizing about that one; it had to be the Singapore Stinger, fourteen inches of slick, light wood. It wasn't as heavy as he expected, but with the force of a muscled arm behind it, it had potential to leave some formidable marks. He could see them, red striped against Aya's pallid bottom, his lover crying out each time Yohji brought the Stinger down, his dick so hard it dripped on the floor as he begged Yohji not to stop. Then the image turned; he felt the burn of the paddle on his thighs, the warmth of Aya's knees beneath his trembling body, the heat of his lover's eyes and hard cock— it set fire to his own organ, a kind of trembling anxiety that bordered on fantastic desperation. He needed Aya. Right now.

"Anything else?" he managed, voice too tight for his liking, but it was taking every ounce of reserve he possessed to keep from knocking Aya down and humping him right there on the tiled floor. God, that would be good, Aya's warm body sprawled beneath him as he rocked against that—

Okay, he had to stop that. Immediately.

A guilty glance downward revealed a more that suspicious bulge in his tight jeans; it looked like he was trying to smuggle out a dildo.

Now if Aya would pat him down and conduct a cavity—

No! No bodies, no cavities, no naked Aya doing gloriously inappropriate things with a pair of handcuffs—

"Anything else?"

* * *

The savvy salesgirl had his secret purchases rung up and bagged before they made it to the register. The rest were handed over and, after a few protests from Aya, paid for by Yohji. He handed the two bags to the redhead as he shuffled his wallet back into his pocket before opening the door and allowing the other to pass through first.

It shut behind them, and Aya made it almost three steps down the dim corridor before Yohji pounced. Planting his hands solidly against Aya's back, he shoved, hard. Only his quick grab to the other's shoulder let Aya's back hit the wall rather than his face as he was set off balance unexpectedly.

"I need to fuck you," he whispered in Aya's ear, pressing him back against the cool wall and grinding their hips together. With a bag in each hand, Aya had little chance at defense, not that he could possibly be debating defense as Yohji's hardness rubbed against his hip.

"I'm so damn hard, Aya," he pressed in harder, fingers threading through Aya's hair, holding his head in place as he brought their lips together roughly. His tongue thrust into Aya's mouth as he sucked the air out of him, tugging at his hair and grinding against him until their mouths came apart with the smack of a broken seal, a sound directly followed by Aya's quiet gasp when Yohji's teeth closed over his already sensitive bottom lip. Yohji's hands held him in place still as he drew back slowly, teeth raking over the swollen lip as he pulled it gently outward before leaning back in to replace teeth with gentle lapping.

Aya tasted the slight tinge of blood, a token for him, he knew. Then Yohji was holding him in a tight kind of hug, thrusting desperately against his hip while he whispered broken promises of reciprocation if he could just, just for now, please.

Aya shoved with his shoulder, knocking the blonde back a few inches; Yohji looked confused, and absolutely beautiful. Usually more than content to have the older man top him, Aya had a sudden urge to push him to the ground and fuck him. It was implausible, and he dismissed it quickly before he forgot that.

Instead, he smirked at Yohji's perplexed expression and dropped easily to his knees, weighted bags settling silently on the walkway and his hands never straying from the plastic handles. He nudged Yohji's crotch with his nose, inhaling deeply rather than instantly ending the contact that, if he could judge by Yohji's caught breath, threatened to end his lover then and there.

"Oh, fuck," Yohji managed. With his left palm pressed flat against the wall, his right went to the task of undoing the button-fly of his jeans, pressing down the flimsy excuse for underwear, already damp with precome, and freeing his dripping cock to brush it against Aya's soft cheek. One disheveled eartail whisped over the sensitive flesh, then Aya turned to lick the flushed head, guiding it into his mouth with the help of Yohji's trembling hand.

He spent only a moment swirling his tongue over the tip, tasting the clear fluid, slightly more dense than his own saliva and flavored of Yohji's body. He wanted to linger over the tender slit, but a rush of cool air stirred his hair as a subtle reminder of where they were. So he leaned forward in invitation.

Never slow on the uptake, Yohji mumbled some low combination of profanity and planted both hands on the wall before he began to thrust into Aya's mouth. The first two or three times were restrained, and though he was sure it was a hesitation born of kindness, it frustrated Aya. If he was going to suck Yohji off in an ally, logic, and his cock, said it ought to be a hard and fast fucking of his mouth, not some bedroom play of loving attention.

With his mouth full, these suggestions were offered only through his silent motions. He turned his eyes up to meet Yohji's, visible over the edge of his sunglasses as they dropped to the end of his nose, framed by his loose hair as he looked down to watch. Aya relaxed his throat and plunged forward, taking Yohji nearly to the hilt, the end of his own nose just brushing the hot skin of the blonde's abdomen.

"Fuck!" Yohji gasped, and any moderation collapsed around them. He pulled back only to thrust immediately back into the wet suction of Aya's mouth. The redhead took it, closing his eyes to concentrate on the pulsing length hitting the back of his throat. He could smell Yohji, cigarettes and soap and expensive cologne mixed with sweat and sex. He wanted to move with him, to hum or twist in some display of skill, but there wasn't time.

Yohji drove forward again and again as Aya tired to keep up with a rhythm that was not quite steady. He lost only once, throat closing of its own accord as he fought back a gag, careful to keep his mouth open and teeth away. He silently prayed Yohji didn't notice, surging forward to swallow his lover's dick again before the other could even think to pause.

He found his back against the wall, off balance as his knees rose a few inches off the ground to adjust to the position as Yohji stepped in close so that his forearms rested on the concrete, giving him better leverage if less room to move. The thrusts came faster, Yohji rocking onto his toes with each one.

"Gonna come," he gasped, a bare second before he did. Aya's head was against the wall, and it gave him no room to retract as the first wave shot down his throat. He jerked away in surprise; Yohji's dick popped free from his mouth as he turned instinctually to the side. The warm strands of white spurted over his left cheek as he coughed, Yohji's impressive load clinging to his chin and eartail and the last slick drops falling to his jeans as the other pulled back to stare.

A chatting couple passed the end of the walkway, and Yohji quickly shoved the softening organ back into his pants.

"Shit, Aya, I'm sorry."

He knelt, summoning a cloth handkerchief as if by magic. He wiped down Aya's hair first, leaving it vaguely slick, then his cheek, folding the cloth in half to collect a stray bit over one eyebrow. Aya kept his head to the side, silently letting his lover clean him as he swallowed hard, once, and got air back into his lungs. Then fingers were on his chin, urging his eyes back to Yohji's; there he found a curious mix of guilt, concern, and accomplishment.

"Aya?"

All he got in return was a brief kiss and a hand extended in a silent request to be helped up.

~tbc~

Notes: A much shorter chapter this time, but I'm struggling a bit with the next one, so an update would have been severely delayed if I made you all wait. As you can tell by the note, there's no blushing Aya here – how sad! I added this fun bit of smut to up my end of the bargain; though the story continues (cause I desperately want to please my lovely readers), five reviews for chapter three gets the bonus of blushing Aya!


	4. Four: Plastic Peonies

Notes: Thank you Cody Thomas, glinwulf, and akirareader for your reviews! They really motivated me to keep working on this even when it became resistant (sometimes fics need a little discipline, you know). Also, I had been discontent with the chapter titles since I started, and I finally figures out what I wanted to do with the silly things; I hope everyone has their flower dictionary at the ready.

Chapter warnings: yaoi (please consider this as applied to the remainder of the fic), language, slight exhibitionism

* * *

Black Leather Roses

Chapter Four: Plastic Peonies

* * *

Yohji liked to watch.

He liked to watch even when Aya wasn't doing anything.

He sat quietly, leaning towards the cool window, elbow bent against the narrow edge so that his hand could support the head tilted upon it without the active participation of any muscles. His forehead rested against the glass, his eyes hidden by the messy fall of his hair. One might have thought Aya asleep if not for the noticeable tension in his shoulders and, well, elsewhere. Of course, it was the elsewhere that concerned Yohji.

Once they'd argued over the schedule and caught, barely, one of the last trains, Aya had tried to hold their bags in his lap. Yohji was having none of it. Pointing out that one a.m. was hardly rush hour, that the car was completely deserted, and that the seats in front of them made excellent bag-rests, he pried them away to reveal a delectable surprise. Aya was visibly hard. Yohji hadn't been entirely sure what the effects of his rather messy finish had had on the redhead, having been left with Aya's enigmatic stare when he tried to question. But even Yohji, blonde or not, could understand the stiff ridge in Aya's jeans.

Not that Aya didn't try to hide it. He did, shifting towards the window, one lean thigh slightly raised, and feigning sleep. Yohji wondered if he even fathomed that the blonde knew him well enough to realize that sleeping in front of other people was something that his boyfriend didn't do. He probably thought Yohji had forgotten, or never noticed in the first place. No such luck.

But it did make a tempting picture. Aya, sitting in the train, almost asleep like some intoxicated schoolgirl, looking innocent but secreting a hardon between his pressed thighs.

The train slowed, gliding into another station: not home. When the breaks caught, Aya's head rocked forward on his hand; one eartail fell in a bright red arch across his left cheek, the end resting just below his chin as it swept tantalizingly close to his lips. It was stiff, at least in places. No matter how many times Aya ran his fingers through it, the lock of hair refused to lay properly down. Once more he unconsciously reached to smooth it into place, fingers trailing over the resistant strands that clung together with the last remnants of their fun in the ally. When it fell back from his long fingers, several stands did land across his lips. His hand reached, but Yohji saw, just before it moved, Aya flick out his tongue to draw the red strands into his mouth.

Yohji promptly lost track of what station they were at.

"Don't," Aya stated without looking up.

Yohji disregarded the warning, slipping the fingers of his right hand further in between Aya's warm thighs.

"We're on the train," he tried.

Yohji pressed his fingers upward, forcing Aya's legs apart when he twisted his hand to cup him through his jeans.

"Kudou, this is the last train on the Yamanote line, and I do not want to walk home."

"So?" he returned, finally

"So stop touching me there!" he hissed under his breath, turning further away and angling his knees towards the window.

Yohji drug his hand away, but replaced it almost instantly with its twin, pressing the palm of his left onto Aya's crotch as he turned to face the seat and whisper in the swordsman's ear.

"Mmm, Aya," he indulged in a brief lick of the ear's edge, "Your body wants to be touched there."

He gave Aya a rough squeeze and heard the younger man gasp, felt the tantalizing inhalation on his shoulder as Aya pressed his mouth there to hide the sound. Yohji felt strong fingers tighten around his upper arms with almost bruising intensity as he worked his hand down the front of Aya's jeans just far enough to run the tips of his own fingers over Aya's cock, feeling the tense, hot head that gave up a drop of slick liquid when he turned to bite at Aya's neck.

"Sorry," he whispered, fingers trying to wedge themselves further into the tight confines of Aya's pants while the younger man pushed up against them. His breath was already short, and Yohji could feel the echo of his earlier desperation. "I shouldn't have made you wait so long."

Reluctantly, he slipped his hand from the jeans; Aya made a minor retreat, fingers loosening and head slipping slightly downward so that his forehead rested on Yohji's shoulder. The only other point of contact was the blonde's knees pressing into Aya's left thigh as he leaned awkwardly over the swordsman. Aya might have taken the reprieve to collect himself, but Yohji had other ideas, not one of which involved stopping.

Taking a firm hold under Aya's right knee, he shifted his weight backward, falling back into his seat and dragging Aya with him so that the redhead ended up straddling his lap. Though he initially landed with his bottom settled fairly safely mid-thigh, another expert shift from Yohji brought him firmly against the blonde. He felt the swordsman's legs relax, widening slightly over his own; reaching back, Yohji grabbed Aya's firm butt with both hands, jerking him forward to rub his hardon against the blonde's lower stomach, tantalizingly close to his crotch.

But that could be ignored, especially when Aya's hands were grabbing at his hair and sharp teeth were ghosting at his neck. Yohji had learned early on that Aya was a biter, and while he appreciated the general restraint the man usually showed, now he wanted the fierce proof of the man's desire. He tilted his head and bared his neck, shifting Aya's hips against him in rhythmic motions which the redhead soon picked up on his own. The hands tightened in his hair, almost painful, as Aya's lips clamped down just under his jaw, hard suction followed immediately by the sharp pinch of teeth. Yohji hissed regardless of his preparation, a sound that seemed to spur on his lover, Aya's rhythm speeding up, his thrusts becoming less aimed as he clung to long strands of blond hair.

"Yohji," he moaned the name against his lover's neck, following the warm word with a lick of the skin that made Yohji shiver. "I can't wait."

Yohji clutched him closer, one hand still on his ass as the other pressed flat against his back, steadying him as Aya thrust almost desperately against him. He was close, and then—

"Yeah, cowboy! Ride that fucking stud!"

Aya froze at the unfamiliar voice, instantly tense and reaching for his boot and the blade hidden there. The knife gave Yohji pause, but the instinctive fear that coiled in his gut was a reaction to the cold, steel expression that snapped down over Aya's face. The wanton, flushed visage transformed, leaving Abyssinian, icy despite the pink in his cheeks. He would kill the interloper.

Yohji held him tight, trapping Aya against his chest as he shot his own glare over his lover's shoulder.

Standing with his back braced against a row of seats was a young guy, rather short but passably cute; it was painfully obvious that he was trying too hard to be tough, decked out in tight jeans and a leather jacket, no shirt. His dark hair was heavily gelled and spiked around his pierced face. A group of four sat behind him, all turned in their seats to watch. They were probably college students, headed home after a night of drinking, having no idea that they what they were flirting was death.

"Smile, pretty boys!" Mr. Badass lifted his cell phone to take a picture.

Yohji couldn't help it; flashing a Victory sign, he grinned over Aya's shoulder. The camera phone clicked twice, Yohji gripping Aya with hurting strength the entire time.

"You're dead," Aya hissed in his ear as he struggled to lift himself off Yohji's chest only to have the blonde tug him back. Using the wire had advantages, and impressive upper body strength was one of them.

Yohji jumped at the harsh rake of nails down his side. True, unless he wanted to bite out of spite and with an audience, it was one of the few moves left to Aya in his restricted position, but Yohji hadn't expected it. It hurt, and he knew enough to let go of Aya immediately. But he just couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"I like it when you're rough."

* * *

Yohji had estimated six deaths, his own included.

But the next stop was theirs, and he had gotten them both off the train with no more than a few bruises.

Aya assured the blonde that he was lucky, and informed Yohji that he had lots of time to think how auspicious the timing had been since the redhead was sleeping in his own room that night.

He left the gaping man in the hallway, holding their impressive plunder which had, in Aya's skillful recrimination, been rendered worthless, a fool's gold of sexual pleasure when deprived of a warm body on which to try their metal.

* * *

Yohji slept alone for all of twenty minutes. The entirety of this was spent in a fitful doze on top of his comforter which, upon waking a third time after yet another reach for something not there, he gave it up. More than aware that Aya's temper wouldn't have yet cooled, he spent another half hour sorting through their recent acquisitions and carefully stashing away those that Aya didn't know about. This was interspersed, of course, with bouts of fixed staring at certain objects while his mind supplied creative ideas of what he could do with them which lead, in turn, to gratuitous touching of himself through his pants.

Not that he stayed in them very long.

Fifty-seven minutes after having been ditched by his lover in the hall, a naked Yohji with a considerable hardon slipped into the swordsman's room. Aya might yell at him, but he doubted it. Having expressed his displeasure and gotten his way in dismissing Yohji, Aya would probably, with some cajoling, set aside his anger in favor of letting Yohji make good on his promises to reciprocate for his earlier generosity.

Three weeks ago, Aya giving him a blowjob outside the privacy of their bedroom would have shocked the hell out of him. And while it still had a brilliant surprise factor, Yohji admitted that he had expected, even asked for it. But, despite his apparent stupidity in dealing with the train incident—where he was now sure he should have jumped to defend Aya's honor, a course of action that would have gotten him only a lecture on the man's ability to do it himself—instead of admitting any kind of amusement at his lover's embarrassment. It hadn't helped that the boys had picked a particularly bad moment for interruption, with Aya bare seconds away from climax.

It was over the instant Aya heard them, his control snapping down over any hint of desire, suffering cock notwithstanding.

It wasn't any wonder he had threatened them, and Yohji in turn. The blonde was sure, though, had he managed to get a hand or mouth anywhere near the right spot during the brisk walk home, Aya would have fallen right back into his arms. Said maneuvers were prevented only by Aya's threat to break Yohji's hand the next time it got anywhere near his swimsuit zone.

He had meant it at the time.

Now, however, the door closed quietly behind him, and Yohji slipped towards the bed with confidence, courage, and a new toy. He was ready to play.

~tbc~

Notes: Please give the Miko your reviews! I feed them to the slug, you see, in exchange for nearly naked pretty boys. Do you think three reviews is a fair price for Aya cooking in nothing but an apron? Ah, but the Yohji with the strategically placed bouquet is tempting, too. Hm…perhaps I need to see the catalog again…


	5. Wildflowers I: An Interlude

Notes: Well, I wasn't going to post this until I got three reviews on Chapter Four, but Cody Thomas asked so nicely . . . and I just can't refuse! You should all thank Cody-san profusely (as I do) for being such a dedicated reviewer. So here you are - - Aya in an apron.

* * *

Wildflowers I: An Interlude

* * *

Yohji's disappointment at finding the bed empty was tempered by the savory smell of bacon infiltrating the room. Flipping back the wrinkled sheet, he stood, stretching his long, lean body. The warm light of early morning forced its way in through the blinds, casting bright strips across his naked body as he reached to the ceiling and let out a soft grunt of satisfaction.

Dropping his arms, Yohji turned to tug the white sheets off the bed. He balled them up and deposited them by the door for later washing before beginning a halfhearted search for clothes. His lover, it seemed, had been quick to the draw in picking up their previously discarded items, so wearing those was out. Not that Yohji had a penchant for day two wear, but seeing the look in Aya's eyes when he showed up wearing the redhead's yesterday boxers was too good not to indulge every once in a while.

With a little smile drifting over his lips, Yohji resigned himself to actual clothes and pulled jeans from the closet to drag them over his legs. Knowing Aya, he would demand a top as well. It seemed like such a hassle, but Yohji located a navy polo shirt and tugged it on. Really, he should have just showered and been ready for the day. He dismissed this with the pleasant thought of coaxing Aya into the shower with him. With the kids out of the way, they could be as loud as they wanted.

Hell, they could do it in the kitchen.

Yohji decided he was wearing way too many clothes for sex in the kitchen, but thought it would appease his boyfriend's sense of propriety and therefore better his chances of getting Aya to remove his own, no doubt complete and tidy, set of clothing. These thoughts made him hurry to tie back his hair, retrieve his sunglasses from the nightstand, and finish his morning cigarette. Tossing the butt out the window and pulling it closed, Yohji spared the mirror a quick glance before heading downstairs.

He entered the kitchen with hopes of food and a little seduction.

Then he forgot the food entirely.

Aya stood in front of the stove wearing an apron, only an apron. It was pink and frilly, looped around his neck and tied in a large bow just over his perfectly bare bottom. He must have heard Yohji coming, because he stood with rigid posture, making his butt tense and pressing his legs together to hide his genitals as he poked at scrambled eggs with a metal spatula.

Yohji's first instinct was just that, instinct. He felt a desperate pulse of desire that urged him to grab Aya and take him roughly from behind; he was nearly consumed with the need to shove his hardening cock between those bared cheeks and pound into the man until Aya screamed his name.

It was only with intense effort that Yohji fought back this desire. Swallowing hard, he walked forward slowly, as if unsure of his own resolve. Leaving Aya unmolested for the time being, he turned to lean back against the counter next to the stove, within arm's length and facing the swordsman.

Aya continued to prod the eggs as if unaware of Yohji's presence, but the blonde knew better. He surveyed the lean arms, muscles tense, and the slender neck still heavily bruised from the night before. Lower, the sides of Aya's chest were revealed and one pink nipple peaked out from beneath the apron's top, begging to be toyed with. A glance was spared for Aya's pale legs, revealed from mid-thigh and leading down to those surprisingly manicured feet. How the hell did Aya manage to be so perfect?

Yohji's gaze shifted to the man's face for the first time as he went to ask this question only to have it die on his lips.

Aya was gorgeous.

His hair, obviously freshly washed, curled invitingly inward, softening the lines of his face and intensifying the deep purple of his eyes. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth in perpetual indication of concern. And he was blushing. It wasn't the slight shading of pink that often ghosted over his features or even the flush that grew there at Yohji's bawdy talk; no, it was almost red, stretching across the tops of his cheeks and nose as he tried to lower his head away from Yohji's stare.

Pressed against the kitchen counter, Yohji made love to Aya with the apron still on.

~tbc~

Five reviews on chapter five (should be posted within twenty-four hours) gets you indecently dressed bishies. Think of it as an intricate game of strip poker. Now, click the review button to remove Yohji's pants.


	6. Five: Batiste Laburnum

Notes: Sorry for the long delay in getting this one posted. It got stalled in the middle, but it's finally finished. I think the entire fic is a bit more…hm, bold? rough? language-wise than some of my other stuff, so I hope that isn't too off-putting. I have quite a few doubts on this, and I so wanted it to live up to your PWP expectations; the Evil Hentai Slug and I did our best, so if you can forgive us where we fall short, we'll keep trying.

Warnings: yaoi, language, m/m sex (Surely we all know what this entails at this point; we don't need the specific warnings, ne?), toys

* * *

Black Leather Roses

Chapter Five: Batiste Laburnum

* * *

Instantly tense, with a hand reaching imperceptibly towards the thin blade secured just behind the edge of the headboard, Aya released his breath silently when he recognized Yohji's step. Allowing his muscles to relax, he settled into a feigned sleep as the blonde approached the bed.

Sliding his eyes open just enough to watch his intruder through his lashes, Aya saw Yohji kneel on the floor, staying up on his knees so that his head was level with Aya's stomach. One hand reached tentatively to pull back the thin sheet and the simple motion left him naked before the other's gaze. Vaguely, Aya regretted going to bed without clothes, and perhaps more sleeping in such a position, on his side, so that Yohji had not only a full frontal view but easy access.

He tried not to shiver as a warm hand ran over his hip and bottom, ghosting down his thigh.

"Aya," Yohji whispered, leaning close to press a kiss on the top of one pale hip while he rested his palm on a smooth butt cheek, dispelling innocent caresses with the sly approach of fingers.

Anger was forgotten under the simple petting; it was curiosity and, though he was loathe to admit it, a craving for Yohji's touch that kept him pretending while Yohji brushed a fingertip over his hole, teasing the sensitive area.

"You're awake."

"Hn." He didn't open his eyes, wondering how Yohji would interpret his reluctance.

Apparently he took it as a challenge. Another gentle, open-lipped kiss teased the top of his hip, hinting at languid seduction; then Yohji grabbed his cock.

A quick intake of breath accompanied the instant opening of his eyes.

"Impatient," he hissed at Yohji who was smiling as he ran a loose fist up and down Aya's dick.

"Sensitive, baby?"

He wanted to deny that, but when a firm squeeze made him catch his breath, Aya thought it pertinent to keep quiet. His balls felt heavy and a little sore from the denied release earlier, but Yohji's touch was already coaxing his erection back to life; the fact that the blonde was kneeling naked on his floor didn't hurt either. Moonlight from the window fell over him, making his light hair shine and lighting his eyes as they met Aya's own.

"I'll be gentle."

"Don't."

A smirk. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it was late and the second, firm squeeze of Yohji hand rode a delicious line between pleasure and pain, making him bite back a sound that would have done more damage than his words.

Yohji leaned up to kiss him, brushing moist lips over his own before nibbling at Aya's lower one, sucking it into his mouth only to scrape it lightly with his teeth as Aya tried to withdraw. He didn't get far as Yohji caught his mouth in full, left hand fisting in Aya's bangs to hold him still as he forced his tongue past the teeth, sealing their lips together as he pushed as deep as possible.

Aya took a gasping breath through his nose as Yohji's other hand resumed tugging on his cock, once again half hard under the knowing touch. He was beginning to feel lightheaded as blood rushed south and air became scarce, and he felt a tremor of want rake through him when Yohji's touch transferred again to his hole.

But that wasn't Yohji's finger.

Curious, Aya pulled back, but again Yohji followed. The hand left his hair to cup the back of his head, keeping him still and on his side as something cool and hard brushed over his entrance. Its solid material tugged slightly at the tight pucker, creating an odd sensation that made him pull back, achieving barely an inch.

"Shh," Yohji soothed, whispering it directly against his cheek before placing a kiss there and drawing back himself. Gently a thumb wiped at his chin, sweeping away the saliva that had managed to escape their messy kiss.

"Sit up, Aya," he directed, warm arm slipping beneath his shoulder to help him up, guiding him to kneel on the bed. Yohji stood in front of him, putting them face to face and almost eye to eye; they met cock to cock, Yohji's member shockingly hard against his own before it slipped to the side to press against his stomach. The slide and pull of hot flesh was just as erotic as the sweep of his own dick over Yohji's abs as the man shifted against him as his left hand worked Aya's ass, kneading the flesh and watching Aya's eyes.

Caught between asking about the lingering something mixed with lust and dismissing it as moonlight playing in green eyes, Aya felt the hand on his bottom tug a little, exposing his entrance to the cool air. The interruption of routine confused him, but Yohji's lips were working down his ear and neck, hunting the place on his throat that made him—

"Ah!"

"Mmm," Yohji purred against his throat. Shuffling even closer, he began to suck at the spot, pulling the flesh up and nipping it with his teeth when he knew all Aya wanted him to do was bite down. He was teasing, shifting, moving, rubbing their erections, trapped so tantalizingly close between their bodies. The heat was growing, sweat beginning to slick their skin they rubbed against one another.

Though he had leveled the charge at Yohji, it was Aya who succumbed first to impatience. Wound up earlier and denied release in favor of spiting his lover, Aya found the tension rising quickly to the surface and he needed more than rubbing, more than Yohji's warm lips at the juncture of his throat. Teeth or fingers or cock, something had to break the surface or he was going to be pulled apart.

Finding his arms wrapped around Yohji's shoulders, Aya planted both his hands in blonde hair and drug Yohji into another kiss. He let a little more of his weight rest against the other man as his legs spread further apart, a wanton motion that he didn't care for Yohji being too intent upon; he brought the focus instead to his own tongue, thrusting it into Yohji's mouth.

But the taller man slipped away, a well-timed dig of fingernails into his bottom making him take a breath and freeing Yohji's lips that once again fled to his neck. There they resumed the incessant playing, sucking almost to the point of pain then backing down, stringing out Aya's nerves until he gave in went to turn around, intent on offering Yohji a blatant display the man couldn't refuse.

But strong hand caught him when he went to pull back.

"Wait."

"Do something!"

There was that infernal smile, too sexy for its own good.

"Alright. Hold still a minute."

Slipping his head over Aya's shoulder, Yohji reached for something. A tongue flicked against Aya's ear, then he heard soft, wet sounds as Yohji sucked on what had to be one of their recent acquisitions, wetting it so he could put it in. The excitement of anticipation surprised Aya, and he rubbed himself slowly against Yohji's flat stomach as he waited, hearing Yohji moan, sound restricted by his chore. It was the same sound the blonde made when he sucked Aya off, a low needy moan that forced the first beads of precome out of Aya's cock, making a small, slick line on Yohji's skin.

Yohji moved again, repositioning the arm around Aya's middle and standing a little to the side so he could look easily over Aya's shoulder while letting the redhead wrap his own arms around Yohji's chest in a loose hug. It tightened instant when Yohji's teeth sank, not quite breaking skin, against Aya's neck.

"Yes!" the word burst from him as Yohji's nails scraped once down his back, causing him to thrust against the other's hip. Caught in the rhythm of his own making, he started at the cool, wet push against his anus. Then everything stopped. Holding Yohji's hips, he leaned heavily against his lover as the other man carefully reached around him to work it in his ass.

What was it?

It was cool with saliva chilled by the room, ungiving, smooth, probably plastic. He felt the rounded tip first, then it widened, not by much, as it pressed in.

With his chin resting on Aya's shoulder, Yohji explained in a quiet, seductive purr.

"It suits you, Aya. It's sleek, slender…a pearly white. I've got the first inch inside you, and I can see you stretched around it. "

He laid against Yohji's chest, trying to relax as he felt the toy slip between the unstretched muscle. It wasn't nearly as big as Yohji, but he found it unyielding in its spread, frustratingly slow but demanding as it pressed forward.

"Three inches," Yohji breathed, and when Aya felt the sudden thrust against his belly, he knew the blonde was thinking of being in that position himself, making those first, tight thrusts that opened Aya for him. "You want it?"

"Yes," he hadn't meant that to be breathy, and he managed to lick the nipple closest to his mouth, feeling restored by Yohji's tremulous response.

"God," the blonde breathed, and Aya did it again just before the toy plunged forward, taking the last two inches by force.

Aya knew he cried out, but with what words or sound he wasn't sure.

Yohji hummed into his ear as he withdrew it and pressed it in again with a flick of his wrist. Before Aya could reply, the action was repeated, the angle changed slightly, and the plastic tip slid against Aya's prostrate before settling inside him; it caused him to jump.

He felt Yohji's lips curve against the sensitive skin of his neck, then the toy withdrew. When it came again, Yohji's teeth snapped down over his neck just as the toy hit his spot and Aya thought he might come right there. He held tight to Yohji, leaning close and resting his forehead on the blonde's bony shoulder as the toy began to pump rhythmically in and out of his hole, aimed with relentless accuracy.

"Am I getting it?" Yohji questioned, voice already dripping with self-satisfaction.

Aya managed to nod, but he couldn't get out words, not with that in his ass, the snug push and pull in his almost too tight hole, and not with his dick trapped in the sweaty heat between their bodies, leaking onto Yohji who was so damn handsome and smelled like anticipation and sex.

"Got a surprise."

There was barely time to register the words before the toy began to vibrate. Yohji tilted it, letting the tip press against Aya's prostrate, a pressure and stimulation that almost hurt in its intensity. Aya tried instinctively to move away from the probe, but Yohji held him still, obliging only falling back into the thrusting rhythm, picking up speed as Aya began to shove against his hip. He couldn't help it; it was too much. He felt his dick pulse, keeping time counter to the continuously vibrating touches of the toy as it landed repeated against the spot deep inside him.

Yohji's arm wrapped tight around him, and the ability to press against his lover straight on while being fucked from behind was almost as striking as the piercing touch inside. He clung to Yohji, pressing his face into the crook of the man's neck, trying to ground himself against the growing pleasure.

Yohji titled his head, mouthing his words against Aya's ear, "Come for me, Aya."

"Uhn . . . Yohji..."

Taking half a step back, Yohji continued to drive the vibrator into Aya's body; the swordsman quickly balanced himself, hands on Yohji's shoulders, head thrown back as the blonde's other hand stroked his cock. The points of sensation were overwhelming, snatching his attention one to the other, the vibrating plastic against his prostrate, the tugging hand on his leaking hardon, the heated gaze of green eyes.

"I wanna fuck you with your own come," Yohji whispered, low and deep.

Aya's insides twisted as the vibrator landed solidly again, leaning on his spot, pressing almost too hard as Yohji hand clamped down near the head of his cock. He came hard, body forcing out strands of white semen, the strongest spurts landing high on the blonde's abdomen and the rest dripping over Yohji's fingers as Aya leaned forward and moaned with the release.

The stilled vibrator slid from his body, landing somewhere on the mattress as Yohji used both hands to gather the jism. Feeling spent and languid, Aya watched as he smeared the stickiness over his own twitching cock, lingering longer than necessarily.

Yohji lifted his left hand to Aya's tender lips and the swordsman opened them easily to accept the blonde's index finger. The drowsy feeling began to past, and sleep was against replaced by a more immediate desire. He sucked the last vestiges of his come from the digit, letting it slip from his lips to make his request.

"Fuck me."

Yohji's breath was heavy, his right hand wrapped around the base of his erection, stretching forward and wet with Aya's fresh come.

"Turn around."

Aya did, turning his back to the blonde and dropping gracefully onto his hands and knees. A sticky hand pressed against his thigh, urging him to move forward. He moved on hands and knees, feeling the bed tilt as Yohji climbed on behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see the entranced green gaze regarding his position and then, part enticement and part logistics, dropped down to his elbows, letting his hands rest one on top of the other and create a solid place for his forehead

There was a low moan from Yohji as he watched Aya move so his ass was in the air. It might have been humiliating, was, Aya thought, on some level, but there was a hot thrill of wanton abandonment in being like that for Yohji.

"Oh god," the blonde moaned.

Aya felt hands on either side of his hips, holding him still as Yohji's cock settled into the valley of his ass. Yohji shifted his weight, pulled back a little, and the head of his cock brushed against Aya's hole, making him jump. Only Yohji's hands kept him in place. The man was whispering something, but Aya couldn't make any sense of it, not when one of those hands left him to guide Yohji's erection, resting it just against his opening, before pushing inside.

There was a little give as the head slid into him, and Aya felt his dick harden as he realized it was slicked with what Yohji had forced from his body for the purpose. Suddenly he needed Yohji, all of him. Shifting back, he took another inch, feeling his body stretch around his lover's impressive girth. Yohji didn't hesitate, then, thrusting forward to bury himself inside of Aya.

"Fuck," he ground out, leaning over Aya's back, blonde hair falling around his face to tickle the swordsman's skin.

It felt good. Yohji was big and hard and hot, throbbing with desire, fitting inside him like nothing else. Aya moaned with the overwhelming heat of it all, trying to bury the sound in the back of his hand.

"Yes, baby," Yohji encouraged, sweeping a hand down Aya's sweating back as he drew himself up into a kneel. Pulling back several inches, he left Aya empty, void, for just a second before taking hold of his hips again and plunging back in.

He settled into a slow rhythm, pulling further back each time until he was coming almost out of Aya before thrusting all the way back in. Aya was caught in the two extremes of feeling, from empty and needing to too full, feeling the soft smack of Yohji's balls against his ass. He pressed his forehead onto his hands, trying to breathe through the sensation; then Yohji, with a deft shift of his hips, hit the spot that blanked his world for a second.

"Oh," he heard the gasped syllable before he realized it was his own, unable to prevent it, and finding it just as futile to resist pressing his ass back against Yohji, urging him to hurry, to take him the way he knew the blonde wanted to. His dick was already hard again, answering the feel of the iron rod of Yohji, taught and rigid as it moved inside him.

"Aya," Yohji gasped in turn, slamming into him hard. The hands on his hips clenched, nails digging, just a little, into the skin above his hipbones, adding to the sensation of the increased pace. He felt Yohji's thighs quiver against his own, then flex with the strain of movement; he wanted to linger on the sensation, but Yohji's aim was deadly, his cock plunging too deep again, again, again. All Aya could hear was that voice in his ear, telling him things that he didn't understand but that all meant pleasure.

"Oh, fuck, Aya." They were the last coherent words before Yohji growled, deep, in the back of his throat, thrusting hard into Aya, rocking his body forward. Just when he wasn't sure if he's be able to keep his balance against the movement, he felt the warm spurt of Yohji's release, filling him as his lover pressed in once, twice more, letting his movements dwindle until he rested, hot and trembling, over Aya's back.

He waited while Yohji remembered to breathe, patiently supporting his lover's weight, incredibly full of him. Then Yohji was kissing his neck, biting it gently as he slid his hand down Aya's belly to feel his cock, still hard, surprisingly so, reaching towards the bedspread to deposit a tiny drop of clear precome when Yohji's hand ran down its length.

Aya felt the slick slide of Yohji's softening member as the blonde let to fall from his body. He expected the hand to finish him off and whimpered when it was taken away. His instinct was to rub against the bed sheets, but just as he went to lower his body, Yohji grabbed him around the waist and hauled him backwards.

The noise he made wasn't anything more dignified than a whine as he landed in Yohji's lap. His lover shifted, crossing his legs to make a nest for Aya's ass and pulling the redhead back against his chest.

"Yohji," he pleaded, trying to take hold of Yohji's wrist to put his hand back where it should be.

"Shh, trust me." He felt the smile against his cheek but the hand descending his side was more promising. Closing his eyes, Aya turned his head towards Yohji's neck and waited. Yohji's long fingers skirted his length, going down to cup his tight balls. But then Yohji was moving them out of the way, just a little.

Aya wanted to ask what he was doing, to tell him just to get it done with, but then the fingers began to massage his sac, threading through the light dusting of red curls and rolling them in his hand. Setting his feet flat on the bed, he spread his legs to give Yohji more room to reach between them. Vaguely, he felt Yohji working an arm under one of his bent knees, but Aya was distracted by a particularly ardent squeeze of his balls and didn't notice the vibrator until it had already slipped inside him. One hand held the toy within him, the other coming up under his knee to shift his bottom forward to give Yohji access. His cock was left untended as Yohji held him still and put the vibrator in him.

Having already had Yohji there, the toy went in easily, the way slicked by their mixed come. Still, he couldn't help press back against Yohji at the almost foreign invasion. It was good, but different; then it started to vibrate, and once again Yohji took up the demanding rhythm, touching his sweet spot, making Aya rock against it, head thrown back over the tall man's shoulder as he was supported by the strong, lean body beneath his own.

He needed Yohji to touch him.

"Yohji," he asked, left hand lifted in blind searching until it found blonde waves to tangle in, pulling a little, trying to get Yohji to finish him off. "Please! Yoh—ah! Yohji!."

The voice was frustratingly calm in his ear, "Touch, Aya. Touch it while I fuck you."

Aya had to work to process the words, and once he had them, there was an instinctual recoil from the idea. This was, however, cut short as Yohji bit down on the cusp of his ear, sparking sensation in his oversensitive body, making him shudder, a motion that reminded him how much he needed to feel the trembling release of orgasm.

"Yes," Yohji hummed as Aya snaked his right hand down, taking hold of his straining cock, squeezing, almost too hard, making himself jump in Yohji's arms. His left hand kept its tenacious hold on blonde hair as he began to fist his erection, too far gone to be gentle.

Soon he found Yohji matching his rhythm. Every time his hand reached the base of his cock, the vibrator was pulled away, and slid back in only as he reached the flared head, the two-fold sensation of his own fingers sliding over the swollen head and the plastic toy prodding within him making him cry out, arching against Yohji, forcing his head further back over the blonde's shoulder as he shouted and came, shooting arching strands of white semen out to streak the bed sheets as his world became white.

He came back to the comforting rhythm of Yohji's breath, the gentle rise and fall of the chest he was snuggled against a calm counterpoint to his own. The blonde had moved him, maneuvering them so that Yohji leant against the headboard and Aya rested sideways across his lap, knees together and long, pale legs drawn up, quivering under the protective wrap of Yohji's left arm. His right was around Aya's shoulders, keeping him close for those tiny, fluttering touches.

Aya finally noticed the quiet of the room; the other wasn't talking. With the tight arm around him, he couldn't twist to see his face, and he was suddenly worried.

"Yohji?"

"Hm?" Aya felt the word against his temple, followed by a soft kiss of reassurance. "You finally decide to come back?"

Aya took a deep breath as he felt the chuckle rise from his lover's chest. Freeing one arm, he reached again for blonde hair, twisting his fingers there as he rested his head against Yohji's chest and listened to his heartbeat.

~tbc~

Notes: Well, there we are! The boys have begun their adventure; now is no time to stop…right? Next up, I think, is a little playtime in the shop. Review to get them to work on time!


	7. Six: Chantilly Hyacinth

Notes: I've been distracted by Chains lately, but I still want to work on this fic too, at least sporadically. Thanks to everyone who reviewed this, and I hope you're still interested in reading it! Also, I'm going to try to go back and fix the page breaks in the other chapters.

Chapter Warnings: toys, language, yaoi

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Black Leather Roses

Chapter Six: Chantilly Hyacinth

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"Don't be stupid."

The grin instantly slipped from Yohji's face. Leave it to Aya to take him from suave, seductive lover to leering idiot in two seconds flat. Those weren't the words he'd expected to hear, not after spending half the night half hard and plotting all the ways he could tease and be teased by Aya. While they had been delicate tools of stimulation when he left his own room with them, leaning in Aya's doorway, Yohji found himself desperately wishing he had decided to pitch his plan without the visual aid of the two butt plugs which, under Aya's steely gaze, became weighty, awkward, and inappropriate in his hands.

Quickly he tossed them to the middle of Aya's neatly made bed. They bounced a little, landing against one another, a smoky clear and translucent purple. Aya didn't give them a second glance; occupied with dressing for the day, he was fully focused on smoothing his snug gray t-shirt over his fitted jeans. The Yohji-approved outfit did little to assuage the blonde's disappointment.

He heard Aya sigh, and looked up from the floor to find his lover watching him through the mirror.

"What?" he asked; it came out sharper than he'd intended. Aya's habits were rubbing off on him.

The swordsman put down the brush he had been holding and turned to face him, leaning back, just a little, with his hands on the edge of the wooden dresser.

"Don't look that way," he said, half-glaring.

"What way?" Yohji wanted a cigarette. He could get one, if he was willing to abandon the point and head to the shop. But something, maybe his pride, demanded to know why he had been shot down before being allowed even a hearing. Besides, he wanted Aya to do it, damn it!

"Like a kicked puppy," the redhead explained; it didn't sound like something Aya would say. Of course, Yohji was learning that the man could hardly be predicted.

"Don't kick me then," he replied, slightly petulant. He really ought to have had his first smoke before trying this.

Aya lifted an eyebrow, clearly nowhere near giving in to the impulse to comfort his lover. Well, Yohji might have expected as much, and, even without his morning cigarette, he was still armed with an impressive array of Aya-seducing techniques which, should they fail, would at least be enjoyable in the attempt.

Before Aya had time to move, he found Yohji pressed against his back, looking over his shoulder to stare at them both in the mirror. He watched as one tanned hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, bunching the fabric as it ran upward over the soft, smooth chest while its twin rested across Aya's flat belly, fingertips just nudging the top of the swordsman's jeans. Aya was warm in his arms, and when Yohji turned his head to nuzzle at Aya's hair, he found it smelled of fresh shampoo, the neck of crisp soap.

Removing his left hand from under Aya's shirt, he used it to pull back the collar, kissing the newly exposed collar bone. He licked along the ridge before sucking a small bit of skin into his mouth, gently at first, then, as he felt his lover tense in anticipation, with more force.

Aya's right hand came up to brace on his forearm, the other thin arm bent to catch a few strands of his hair.

"Please," Yohji asked between audible kisses to Aya's neck, "For me."

"You don't know what you're asking," Aya returned, not nearly as stern as usual as his words turned breathy.

"I do. I want it. Give it to me, Aya."

He felt the faint shudder of the body he held close and knew the battle was won. But then Aya pulled away, twisting out of his arms to stare him down.

"It's uncomfortable," he stated.

"Don't care," Yohji said, all smiles now that he was getting his way. Stepping to the bed, he grabbed the clear plug and held it out to Aya. His lover gave him a hard look, but took it, shifted it to his left hand, and looked again at Yohji.

"Lay down, on your side," he directed, voice firm and commanding. It sent a tingle down Yohji's spine to hear it, and he made quick work of undoing his belt and shoving his pants and thong down around his thighs. It was slightly awkward, getting on the bed with the tight garments clinging that way, but he stretched out as seductively as possible, his bare ass aimed in Aya's direction and his head supported by his folded arm.

He shifted in anticipation and felt Aya's long fingers trail over his hip.

His eyes were trained on the bedspread as he listened to the nightstand drawer open and close. The mattress shifted; Aya was sitting beside his legs. A hand came up, guiding his right knee up so that his top leg shifted slightly forward. It was a revealing position, and an instinctual nervousness tightened in his belly. Yohji didn't play the submissive role, and this kind of openness was foreign and almost frightening.

"Relax," Aya demanded, his voice softer now, his hand back on Yohji's upper leg, soothing down the goosebumps that had suddenly appeared.

Yohji wanted to laugh, but the sound wouldn't come. He risked a glance over his shoulder; Aya stared down at him, brows drawn in concern but eyes bright with undisguised lust. Yohji looked away and took a deep breath, willing his body to unwind itself. It was just Aya. He had seen the plug; it wasn't big. He could take it. He was a man for fuck's sake.

For all his mental rallying, he couldn't help but jump when Aya's fingertips, cool with lube, swept over his hole. Aya paused, just a second, then began to push it slowly inside. Yohji demanded himself to breathe. They had been that far before, but no further, Aya always backing down when Yohji became uncomfortable. It just wasn't his thing, he rationalized; he just liked other things better.

So why this, now? Because he wanted Aya to like it. He knew he wanted to see that purple plug slide into Aya's ass, and the heated looks, as Aya had chosen it in the store and just now, said more than words. Aya wanted this, and Yohji wanted Aya to want him.

Aya's finger was all the way in, the heel of his hand gently brushing Yohji's balls as he moved it in and out. It wasn't bad, different and slick, but not bad.

Then there was the second finger, working slowly beside the first. Yohji felt the stretch, and he tensed.

"Okay?" Aya asked. His voice was low, sex low. It was enough to goad Yohji on. Releasing a shuddering breath, he offered a thumbs up. There was a weak chuckle, no more than an exhalation really, from Aya, and the fingers began to move again. They pushed in, meeting some resistance but only the first time; his body learned quickly, loosening around the meager intrusion so the digits slipped easily in and out.

Then Aya did it.

Yohji knew what it was, in a clinical, I-can-make-that-happen kind of way. But this knowledge didn't stop him from crying out as his eyes closed and threatened to roll back in his head.

"Aya," he complained. That wasn't what they were doing.

"Sorry," the other apologized, sounding more self-satisfied than sorry.

The fingers withdrew, dragging slickly out of him. He heard shuffling, the almost silent squeeze of the tube of lubricant. He already felt overly wet and couldn't imagine why Aya thought he needed more.

"Ready?" Aya asked in that same bass tone.

"Yeah."

He was ready, ready to get it over with. Part of him dreaded it, but he had his pride to think of. The plug was little, tiny, less than four inches long, the widest middle part only an inch around with the ends tapering off to only half an inch. He wasn't afraid of that. Fuck, no.

"Fuck," he said out loud as the end of the plug entered him. Immediately Aya pulled back. It hadn't hurt, but he had been surprised. He heard Aya swallow audibly behind him.

"Ready?" the redhead asked again, voice unsure, as if he couldn't figure out how to give Yohji any more warning.

"Yeah, just," he took a breath and closed his eyes, vowing to pay attention this time.

"We don't have to," Aya said, softly.

"You're not backing out of this!" It was more harsh than he intended, and he realized suddenly that it was not a good time to be antagonizing Aya, not when he was in such a tender position. But the redhead just touched his hip again, inadvertently spreading lubricant over his skin as he tried to be kind.

"I'm fine, Aya. Just do it," he resolved. Christ, he wasn't some virgin. Hitching his leg further forward, he pressed his teeth together and waited.

The rounded tip of the plug brushed him again, not pushing, just sitting against him in warning. Aya was taking no chances of surprising him. Yohji waited it out, trying not to tense up when it started to slip inside. Aya moved slower than slow, and Yohji felt every movement as his insides stretched around the silicone. It was tight, and though there was momentary relief when the middle part cleared his entrance, he still felt the almost unnatural push.

Suddenly his body closed around it, and he realized Aya had settled it fully within him. The redhead made some minor adjustment to the visible, round base, and Yohji felt the pressure lessen, but just a little.

He didn't think he liked this.

As Aya carefully cleaned him off with a couple tissues, Yohji purposefully wiped the frown off his face. It wouldn't do to be so instantly displeased with what had been his own idea, and he didn't want Aya to think he had done something wrong. The swordsman couldn't have been any gentler, he realized, and he appreciated it.

Still, when he sat up, it was hard to smile. The plug shifted inside him, poking at an odd angle.

"It's better to stand," Aya directed. Already off the bed, he offered a hand. Yohji accepted, standing experimentally; Aya was right, and the plug shifted back into place, not good, but not directly painful. It felt kind of full.

Belatedly he realized that his pants were still down around his thighs and pulled them up, careful not to bend more than necessary. As he buckled his belt, he realized Aya was watching him, the want in his eyes tempered now, but not completely hidden.

"Your turn," Yohji quipped with what he hoped was his usual voice. Reaching up, he adjusted the sunglasses on the top of his head and felt to make sure his hair was still in place.

Aya nodded, suddenly hesitant, though it barely showed.

Yohji thought it was curious, and wondered if Aya dreaded the initial insertion as much as he just had. He had never felt anything like trepidation in their lovemaking.

"Want me to do it?" Aya questioned, hand out.

Yohji realized he had been lost in thought, staring.

"No," he returned, sure there as something more clever he could have said. Aya shrugged and began to undo his own belt.

Yohji picked up the purple plug. It was the same shape, a rounded kind of three-dimensional diamond with a wide middle and tapered ends; the base was round and flat. This one was bigger, and he now felt it was considerably so, almost five inches long and an inch and a half around the center. For a second, he didn't want to do it, but then he remembered the important fact that Aya took his own dick on a regular basis, and that was a whole hell of a lot bigger than five inches; it would be different for Aya. Maybe.

The man in question was looking at him with concern that bordered on aggravation. His hands held up his unfastened jeans. Go on, Yohji motioned.

With a sigh that suggested he was much put-upon in the situation, Aya turned away from him and dropped the pants. Not as tight as Yohji's, they fell easily to his knees. With quick motions, he had his briefs down as well. Yohji had expected him to mimic his own pose from earlier, but Aya got onto the bed on all fours.

Desire flared in Yohji, but he put it down, determined to see this through. Aya's body language radiated impatience, and still, that underlying unease. Grabbing the lube from the bed, Yohji stepped behind him, noticing for the first time that Aya's dick was half hard as it hung between his legs. Without thinking, Yohji reached around him to take it in hand, gently tugging back the foreskin as he stroked Aya, testing to see if it was real. Yeah, Aya was definitely turned on.

"Sorry," he whispered, turning his head aside.

"What for?" Yohji asked, hand dropping away. They didn't have time, and he wasn't going to do Aya any favors by making it worse. "Glad I turn you on, kitten."

Aya bristled at the nickname, all insecurity instantly hidden.

"Just get it over with, Kudou."

"You say the sweetest things."

His slick finger pushed into Aya, hugged by the heated passage. He worked quickly, because if he lingered, he wasn't going to be able to resist having him. Aya was thankfully silent, pushing back as Yohji probed with two fingers together. He took them out, unable to resist a quick caress of Aya's heated thigh.

He squeezed lube onto the plug, using his finger to coat the surface before resting it against Aya's entrance. Dusky pink and wet with lube, it opened as he slowly pushed the toy inside. Then suddenly, Yohji felt resistance. He stopped, drew it back a bit, unable to resist imagining that hot grasp closing over his own hard cock which was starting to swell within his pants.

No, he told it silently, as if the thing ever listened. Thinking it best to have this done with before he gave in and just fucked Aya right here, Yohji pressed the plug forward again. This time Aya's body let him, and he watched it disappear slowly. Aya made a little grunt as it settled firmly inside of him. A pale hand came back to test the position, poking at the base, and it was probably one of the most erotic things Yohji had ever seen.

"All done," he said, voice not as strong as he had hoped. Brushing Aya's hand away, he felt the base himself, telling himself that he was just checking to see if it was secure. When he pushed a bit, he heard Aya gasp and felt him push firmly back against him; it took Yohji a second to realize what had happened, but when he did, his trademark grin returned.

Aya's plug was bigger, and it seemed positioned just so to nudge his prostrate when shifted.

Yohji liked that. He liked that a lot.

Testing his theory, he pushed on the plug again. Aya's breath hitched, and he turned to glare.

"Stop it," he demanded, gingerly sitting back on his heels. Angry or not, he was a sight to see. Kneeling on the bed, his jeans were down around his knees, revealing his uncut cock, pale and half-hard as it rested in its light nest of red hair.

Yohji had to look away, his jeans already getting uncomfortable. He heard Aya shuffle behind him.

"All day?" the redhead asked.

"Yeah," Yohji agreed. "If you last that long."

"Worry about yourself, Kudou."

Aya brushed past him, walking just a little more stiffly than usual.

~tbc~

I'm sure the boys won't cause any trouble in the shop…unless you want them to, that is. Review to encourage them to be _good_.


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